“Target trajectory calculated,” a third worker announced. “On screen now.”
A spot glowed on the map-globe, near the west coast of Greenland. From that point a thread of light speared radially into space. Arrow straight at first, it eventually curved as Earth’s more sedate gravitostatic field grabbed the small mountain their beam had ripped from the ancient glacier. The dot representing the hurtling iceberg still moved very fast, though, and the planetary sphere had to shrink in compensation.
As if impatient with even this fleeting pace, a dashed line rushed ahead of the dot, tracing the frozen missile’s predicted path. Earth diminished toward the lower left corner of the tank and into view, at the upper right, a pearly globe sedately swam onstage.
Teresa let out a cry. “You can’t be serious!”
Alex tilted his head. “You object?”
“Whatever for? There’s no one living on the moon.” Teresa clapped her hands. “Do it, Alex! Get a bull’s-eye!”
He grinned up at her and then turned back to watch as their projectile passed the halfway mark and sped on toward its rendezvous. Teresa unselfconsciously laid a hand on Alex’s shoulder.
No one had ever tried to manipulate the gazer on such a scale. Sure, Glenn Spivey’s people had lain instrument packages where beams were scheduled to emerge. But no one had ever made a beam couple so powerfully and purposely with surface objects. Others were sure to note how closely the beam had missed one of Spivey’s resonators. They’d also notice how accurately Alex had thrown his snowball.
“Phone call from Auckland!” The communications officer announced,
Not far away, Pedro Manella made a show of consulting his watch. “The colonel’s late. They must have dragged him out of bed.”
“Let him wait a few minutes longer then,” Alex said. “I’d rather talk to him after he’s mulled things over.”
Spivey must be watching a display like this now. So, no doubt, were his bosses. The dashed line filled in as the glowing pinpoint converged toward the familiar cratered face of Earth’s dwarf sister. No one breathed as it accelerated and then struck the moon’s northern quadrant, vanishing in a sudden, dazzling glitter of molten spray.
Manella, of course, was the first to recover his voice, though even he took some time to get around to speaking.
“Um, well, Lustig. That ought to give them pause for a day or so.”
Under her hands, Teresa felt the tightness in Alex’s muscles. But outwardly, for the others, he maintained an air of confident calm.
“I expect. For a day or so.”
… Our Mother, who art beneath us, whatever thy name—
You support us, nurture us, bring us the gift of life. Hear the prayers of your children, and forgive us our trespasses. Intervene on our behalf, and for those other lives, great and small, which suffer when we err. Oh, Mother, we pray. Help us to face danger and be wise…
• HYDROSPHERE
I hear you, Daisy McClennon thought, as she brought together the elements she needed implements bought, stolen, coerced, or designed herself during the last several hectic, sleepless days. I hear you, she mentally told the voices vibrating, ringing, echoing across the vast chaos of the Net. And intervene is certainly what I’m about to do. Oh there were those who still thought she was their tool… as a dog might think a man’s sole purpose in life is to throw sticks and operate the can opener. But just as their schemes neared culmination, so would hers. And always, under buried levels and deceptions, there lie layers deeper still.
Soon, she told those who prayed electronically. Soon you’ll have release from all these worries that beset you.
Soon you shall know truth.
PART X
PLANET
Portrait of the Earth at night.
Even across its darkside face, the newborn planet glowed. Upwelling magma broke its thin crust, and meteor strikes lit the shaded hemisphere. Later, after the world ocean formed, its night tides glistened under the moon’s pearly sheen. For most of the next two thousand million years, ruptures glowed beneath the broad waters, and lightning offset the glistening phosphorescence of emerging life.
The next phase, lasting nearly as long, featured growing continents traced by strings of fiery volcanoes. Eventually, huge convection cells slowed the granite promenade. And yet. Earth’s night grew brighter still. For now life draped the land with vast forests, and the air was rich with oxygen. So flamelight illumined a valley here, a meadow there… sometimes an entire plain.
Within the very latest time-sliver, tiny campfires appeared — minuscule threats to evening’s reign. Yet sometimes curving scythes of grassland blazed as hunters drove panicky beasts toward precipices.
Then, quite suddenly, dim smudges told of the next innovation — towns. And when electrons were harnessed, man’s cities blossomed into glittering jewels. Nightside brightened rapidly. Oil drillers flared off natural gas just
to make easier their suckling of deep petroleum. Fishing lights rimmed shorelines. Settlers lay torch to rain forests. Strings of strobing, pinpoint brilliance traced shipping lanes and air corridors.
There were dark wells, also. The Sahara. Tibet. The Kalahari. In fact, the black zones grew. The methane flares flickered and went out. So did the fishing lights.
Cities, too, damped their extravagance. While their sprawl continued to spread, the former neon dazzle passed away like a memory of adolescence. The effervescent show wasn’t quite over, but it seemed to be waning. As night moved back in, any audience could tell the finale would come soon.
But turn the dial. Look at the planet’s surface, at night — in radio waves.
Brilliance! Blazing glory. The Earth seared. It shone brighter than the sun.
Perhaps it wasn’t over yet, after all.
Not quite.
□ Nation states are archaic leftovers from when each man feared the tribe over the hill, an attitude we can’t afford anymore. Look at how governments are reacting to this latest mess — yammering mysterious accusations at each other while keeping the public ignorant by mutual agreement. Something’s got to be done before the idiots wreck us all!
Have you heard the net talk about mass civil disobedience? Sheer chaos, of course. Not even Buddhists or NorA ChuGas can organize on such short notice. So it’s just happening, all by itself! Yesterday Han tried to stop it… ordered all Chinese net-links shut down, and found they couldn’t! Too many alternate routings and ways to slip around choke points. The severed links just got rerouted.
So are the nation states paying heed? Hell, no. They’re just doing what nationals always do — hunkering down. They say be patient. They’ll tell us all about it on Tuesday. Right!
I say it’s time to get rid of them, once and for all!
Only one problem, what do we replace them with?
• CRUST
Crat’s weighted boots were so hard to lift, he had to shuffle across the ocean bottom, kicking muddy plumes that settled slowly in his wake. Occasionally, a ray or some other muck-dwelling creature sensed his clunking approach and took off from its hiding place. Still, all told, there was a lot less to see down here than he’d imagined.